


don't let the high go to waste

by akadefenders



Series: hannigram fic requests [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Grinding, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Injury Recovery, M/M, Making Out, Marijuana, Oral Sex, Porn With Plot, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Recreational Drug Use, Shotgunning, Slut Will Graham, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:28:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29394093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akadefenders/pseuds/akadefenders
Summary: "Leaning in close, Hannibal flicked open the lighter and lit the joint. Will placed it between his lips and inhaled deeply, allowing the smoke to travel down his lungs then breathed out to the side, eyes not leaving Hannibal’s. It had been so long, but the sensation was exactly as he remembered it being once, if a little stronger due to the better quality of the weed. He took a few more slow drags, closing his eyes and allowing the feeling to percolate through him."After the fall, Will's injuries have healed but he still has to deal with lingering pain in his shoulder. Hannibal finds an innovative way to help him relax.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Series: hannigram fic requests [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2163090
Comments: 14
Kudos: 104





	don't let the high go to waste

**Author's Note:**

  * For [demolitiondonut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/demolitiondonut/gifts).



“Checkmate,” said Will, moving his black queen piece and smirking over his wine glass.

Hannibal smiled, his lips twisting in response as he glanced down at the chessboard. They had been playing best of three, and although Hannibal had won the first one, Will had just won the last two games. 

“Well played,” he acknowledged, reaching his hand out to shake Will’s, who laughed and grasped it firmly. Hannibal used the grip to pull Will forwards over the chessboard, deftly plucking the wine glass from his other hand so as to not spill any liquid, and planting a kiss onto his surprised face. 

As he pulled back, he said, “But as you’ll find, I have my own ways of winning.”

Will tried to arrange his face into a disgruntled expression, but found it difficult to hide his pleased smile and rising blush.

“Yes, well, flattery will get you nowhere,” he said, rising up and letting Hannibal put the chessboard and its pieces away for another evening. Although they did not play it every night, chess had quickly become a fun pastime for them. Both of them had learned how to play it growing up, but it was all the more pleasant to practice their skills with a partner. 

“To the contrary, I have often seen that flattery can get you several places, Will,” remarked Hannibal.

“Speaking from experience?”

“Most people are far too eager to have their qualities complimented without ever questioning the reasons behind such praise.”

“You and I are not most people,” quipped Will, finishing his wine. “And when it comes to you, it would be foolish to not question your motives.”

He was rewarded with a slightly mischievous grin at that.

“Quite right, too,” agreed Hannibal with a tilt of the head. “You are, in particular, Will, quite unique. More wine?”

Will shook his head and Hannibal took his glass from him, taking it to the kitchen along with his. As he sat down on their slate grey couch in front of the fireplace, he heard running water and gentle clinking as Hannibal washed their glassware. He toed off his shoes and socks, allowing his feet to run through the plush shag carpet that they had bought for the sitting room. The carpet was one of the reasons why none of the dogs were allowed into this space. Will was so happy and surprised that Hannibal was happy to co-own dogs that this one demand of his made no difference to him whatsoever.

Will glanced at the large oval window set into the wall that overlooked verdant treetops of acacia trees and the glorious night sky. Somewhere in the distance, an owl screeched and hooted and he smiled at the sound. Will closed his eyes and sighed deeply, smelling the burning wood and the lingering scent of alcohol in the air. This was his favourite part of every day, finding solace in the quietude.

Slowly, he became aware of an aching in his right shoulder and he rolled it irritably, trying to work the joint loose. When that did not seem to help, he shrugged out of his sweater and started to massage his shoulder, poking and prodding at the mass of scars there. Ever since their escape to Argentina, he and Hannibal had worked hard at their recovery. Hannibal in particular had been tough on them both, and had implemented a strict regime of exercise, medicinal massage and physical therapy. He had also had a pool installed in their backyard, not a small one that you might find in a family home, but a 25 yard long monstrosity, in which he swam laps every morning at 5am as Will slept. 

But despite it all, some pains just did not go away. His shoulder in particular was a problem, and it ached, especially early in the morning and when it was cold. Or right now, inexplicably and for no reason at all other than to cause him grief. He cursed softly and massaged his fingers around the scar tissue, trying to find some relief.

“Here, let me,” came Hannibal’s voice from behind him, soft and intimate. 

He slid next to him on the couch. Will dropped his hand and Hannibal tugged him back into his warm, soft chest. Will closed his eyes and sighed. With strong, sure hands that had more leverage than Will’s own, Hannibal deftly applied pressure to his shoulder. Will groaned as he dug into sensitive areas, the pain lancing up and down his arm, leaving uncomfortable tingles in the affected nerves around the area.

“Did I aggravate your shoulder when I pulled you forwards, Will?” he murmured, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

“Huh? No, maybe, ‘m not sure. Sometimes it just hurts,” said Will, struggling to concentrate as pain blended with a pleasurable pressure.

“Hmm,” said Hannibal, and Will could tell just by his tone that he was displeased. He thought it was partly concern for Will’s wellbeing, but mostly dissatisfaction that Will’s recovery had not been perfect given Hannibal was his attending physician. His own skills as a doctor, ethics and malpractice notwithstanding, were a point of pride for him. And when it came to Will, despite his love, Will had a sneaking suspicion that Hannibal found his pain a little alluring, drawn to it as he was.

“It’s okay,” he soothed fondly. “It is much better than before.”

And it was. Will had spent weeks if not months in agony, his arm rendered almost immobile. He was just grateful he could run with his dogs and hold onto their leashes. For a while he had thought that that simple pleasure was no longer in his future. 

“And yet, you are still experiencing discomfort,” he remarked. “Give me a moment, I have some acetaminophen in the bedroom.”

“No, wait,” said Will. “Just stay here with me.”

Hannibal sighed.

“At least allow me to massage your shoulder with a little analgesic gel. It will provide some temporary relief,” he pressed.

“You already have provided me relief. You know, you worry too much, Hannibal,” he said, smiling cheekily up at him.

Hannibal smiled and shook his head, memories of three years ago flooding his mind. 

“You enjoyed saying that back to me, didn’t you?”

“Immensely.”

Hannibal reached down and kissed Will’s forehead, then the horizontal scar he had left in Florence, brushing back his curls tenderly. Will smiled. Sometimes, just sometimes, the pain was worth it.

“So I think you worry too much, and you think I worry too much. What is to be done about that?” he asked, trailing kisses down Will’s face as his strong hands squeezed Will’s shoulders in broad strokes.

Will hummed in approval.

“Sounds like we both just need to chill out,” he joked. “Got any suggestions?”

Hannibal paused and sat back, slightly dislodging Will who grumbled a little. He caught a glimpse of Hannibal’s thoughtful expression. Will readjusted himself against the couch and waited expectantly for Hannibal to speak.

“Will, have you ever consumed medicinal marijuana before?”

Will blinked then smiled slowly.

“Why Dr. Lecter, are you trying to get me high?”

Hannibal smirked and reached out to hold Will’s hand.

“Is it working?” he asked smoothly, stroking his thumb against Will’s.

“If you're asking me whether I've smoked weed, then yeah, of course I have. Can't really say it was medicinal though,” Will replied, teasing and carefree, ache in his shoulder forgotten for a moment.

“Tell me about it,” he suggested softly.

Will took a deep breath, then let it out, thinking.

“Growing up as a teenager, mostly in my senior year. Then a little bit in college,” said Will, his eyes becoming unfocused, his mind returning to a time long forgotten. “I’d come home from school to find my Dad wasn't home. He’d be off working somewhere and I'd do my homework but then I'd have hours of time to kill.”

“Where did you acquire it?” asked Hannibal, fascinated by another tantilising glimpse into Will’s past.

“Other boys in the boatyards. Never asked where they got it from. They taught me how to roll a joint though. We spent long summer evenings fighting mosquitoes by the water side, watching the sun set as we got high. It was peaceful.”

“Didn't your father ever notice that you were high?” asked Hannibal curiously.

Will chuckled a little, shaking his head.

“I genuinely don't know. Either he noticed and just didn't care, or he didn't pay enough attention to realise I was high. All he cared for was that my grades were good, and I never let them slip. Besides, it wasn't every single day.”

“Did you like getting high, Will?” 

“As much as the next person. It quieted the noise in my brain. Didn't have to think so hard about all the people around me, their petty frustrations, their jealousy and ambitions. And god, everyone is so damn horny at that age. I was still getting used to my empathy and the weed just made everything retract back into me.” 

Hannibal opened his mouth to speak but Will beat him to the punch.

“Enough, what is this, the Spanish Inquisition?” said Will, “Your turn, have _you_ ever gotten high, Hannibal?”

Hannibal looked both miffed at being cut off so rudely and a little besotted. Will hid a smile, maintaining a carefully blank face. Anyone else who had done the same would be quick to find themselves as an ingredient on Hannibal’s menu but Will had learned there was little he could do that Hannibal found distasteful. He was the exception to Hannibal’s every rule.

“You might be surprised to know I’ve tried most drugs, Will,” he said, a little smug.

Will raised his eyebrows.

“Really? Mr. ‘I’m very careful about what I put into my body’ has done most drugs?” he asked, disbelieving.

Hannibal cracked a grin.

“You know me, Will. I have never been one to deny myself pleasure, and I have an inherently curious nature. How was I to know what I liked or didn’t like if I hadn’t tried it at least once? Florence is where I became a man in more ways than one.”

“Murder, marijuana and making love?” Will asked challengingly.

“Almost, but not quite. I did not make love until I met you,” corrected Hannibal. “I did however have a lot of sex,” he finished with a winning smile.

Will was speechless, his breath caught in his throat and almost without any thought he leaned forward and kissed Hannibal full on the mouth, overcome with emotion. When he pulled back, he swept Hannibal’s bangs behind his ear. They sprang back over his forehead almost immediately and he carded his hands through his hair, content to just touch him.

“Will?” he asked.

Will just shook his head, overwhelmed. That Hannibal had sampled the world of its delights and found the best one of all in him, worthy of love, was staggering. He cleared his throat.

“Just talk to me,” he said finally.

Hannibal looked at him curiously as Will let his hands fall.

“I had been curious about the sensations provoked by narcotics since I could read. The use of drugs had been present in literature for a long time. Sherlock Holmes used cocaine to sharpen his mind; Shakespeare wrote about cowlip in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, a flower that produced sensations similar to marijuana; and Louisa May Alcott wrote about the wonders of hasheesh in several of her works. Was it not natural to see whether the academic held true in reality?”

“And did it?”

“It was certainly fascinating, and came with its own benefits. I enjoyed some more than others - I am particularly partial to psilocybin to this day. I find it can have a myriad therapeutic purposes. Others, less so. All drugs have one thing in common - a loss of control over one’s capabilities that I ended up finding unacceptable. When I was young however, that loss was an aesthetic pleasure of its own.”

Will nodded in understanding, his image of Hannibal as a young man filling out even more, the brushstrokes growing more refined, the linework filling with colour. He could see it now, a young Hannibal, alone and friendless, in a city filled with untold wonders. A den of iniquity just waiting to be explored, a sea of pigs begging for the slaughter, unknown carnalities hoping to be discovered. Aestheticism and hedonism itching to be honed to a scalpel point. Experience giving way to butchery and butchery giving way to artistry. Hannibal Lecter becoming Il Mostro and Il Mostro becoming the Chesapeake Ripper. 

“Would you ever get high again?” he asked curiously.

“With you? Yes,” came the immediate answer.

“Why?”

“Many reasons. The primary being I trust losing control with you. The secondary being the experience of being high with you. The third being experiencing you without your walls and barriers. I have more reasons than you could imagine.”

“Sounds like you really want me to get high,” Will teased.

“We could if you wanted,” Hannibal offered. “I have some marijuana right now.”

“What, in the house?” asked Will, aghast.

“Yes.”

Several questions ran through Will’s mind. Where had Hannibal bought the weed? Who had he bought it from? How long had he had it? Where had he been keeping it? Had he planned to convince Will to get high this whole time?

In the end, all he said was, “Show me.”

With the grace of a jungle cat, Hannibal unfolded himself from the couch and left the room. Will took a moment to register the insanity of the situation. He was about to smoke weed with one of the most prolific and most wanted serial killers in the world. Will tried to imagine Hannibal in his three piece suit, hair properly fixed behind his ear, leather shoes and obviously foreign accent buying weed on a street corner from some stoner kid. The image was so incongruous that he laughed out loud, a quick bark of laughter that rang in the silence. Will wondered what would happen to the poor soul who tried to sell Hannibal subpar weed, thinking he could probably pull one over a naïve European dandy, and getting far more than he bargained for.

He had a smile on his face when Hannibal returned. In his hands he held a small marble mortar and pestle, and a small black box. He set the items down on the table then opened the box to reveal rolling papers, a brass lighter with a Venetian design, and a small plastic bag of weed. Will leaned forward and removed the bag, examining it. The marijuana was green, with tight, dense buds that had a frosty look to them. When he opened the bag just a little, he could smell the familiar earthy and pungent odour. It brought him back to Lake Eyrie and watching the stars and sitting behind the bleachers at baseball games.

“This is much better quality than anything I got my hands on as a kid,” he remarked.

“One would certainly hope so,” said Hannibal archly.

Smiling inwardly at Hannibal’s high standards, Will emptied a little weed out into the mortar, enough to roll a joint. He began grinding the dried buds into a coarse powder, enjoying the ritual of it. When he was done, Will removed the business card he had gotten from a hairdresser earlier that day from his pocket, and tore and crinkled it into a round filter.

“I take it whoever’s card that was will not be going in the rolodex?” Hannibal asked.

“He never was going to; I just needed the number of someone who could cut my hair. It’s getting a little long.”

Hannibal hummed noncommittally. Will knew that he had always preferred Will’s curls long. Even before they had gone through the night on the cliff, Hannibal had loved to put his hands in Will’s hair. Now they were together, he was touching it almost constantly, wrapping a finger around a curl in the mornings when they woke, tugging on it when they fucked, snaking a hand into it when they kissed. A part of him was morbidly curious as to how Hannibal would react if one day he shaved it all off. 

Content to watch Will’s process, Hannibal handed him a rolling paper and sat back on the couch. Deftly, Will filled and packed the joint, licking the top edge of the rolling paper to seal it. As his tongue poked out, he saw Hannibal’s eyes narrow and he stared into them, feeling the eye contact sizzle up his spine. He leaned forward and brushed his hand down Hannibal’s chest, removing his expensive fountain pen from his pocket.

“May I?” he asked lowly. 

“Be my guest.”

He used the end of the pen to poke the weed through and pack it firmly then placed it back where he got it from with a firm caress. Hannibal smirked at Will’s blatant and unapologetic groping. Will smirked at him, eyes challenging. He closed the tip with a twist, and placed the joint in his mouth filter first. As he reached for the lighter, Hannibal got there first.

“Allow me.”

Leaning in close, Hannibal flicked open the lighter and lit the joint. Will placed it between his lips and inhaled deeply, allowing the smoke to travel down his lungs then breathed out to the side, eyes not leaving Hannibal’s. It had been so long, but the sensation was exactly as he remembered it being once, if a little stronger due to the better quality of the weed. He took a few more slow drags, closing his eyes and allowing the feeling to percolate through him.

“Your turn,” he whispered after a minute or so, opening his eyes.

Hannibal removed the joint from between Will’s fingers then placed it in his own mouth, lips touching where Will’s had just been. As he inhaled, Will swallowed, watching the rise and fall of his chest. Will had never seen Hannibal smoke before; the sight was strangely erotic. Will had never particularly found smoking attractive but it somehow looked good on him. The tilt of his jaw as he took a drag lit a fire inside Will; he wanted to bite it. After a few puffs, Hannibal passed the joint back to Will.

Will took another hit, feeling his limbs loosen and his breaths come slower. He breathed in deeply, smelling the pungent smoke that coiled around them, serpentine and winding.

“Good?” Hannibal asked.

“It could be better,” said Will, smirking over the joint.

Hannibal tilted his head.

“How?”

Being careful to not drop the blunt or accidentally push into any fabric, Will pushed Hannibal until he was seated back against the couch and clambered over onto him, straddling his thighs. He took a long drag and held the smoke in his mouth then leaned down and kissed Hannibal, pushing the smoke into his mouth as he exhaled. Hannibal’s hands went around him, one anchoring around his back and pulling him firmly into his chest, and the other predictably in his hair, directing the kiss. 

Will pulled back a little and took another drag. This time, it was Hannibal who dragged him back in with a tight fist in his curls, kissing him and stealing the air from his lungs. One hand snaked down Will’s back to his ass, encouraging him to grind forward.

Will groaned. 

There was a pleasant buzzing in his head, a floating sensation. Hannibal broke the kiss, held Will’s hand up to his mouth and took a hit. The sight of his cheeks hollowed was so erotic that the blunt was barely out of his mouth and Will was upon him, hands insistently unbuttoning his suit jacket, lips over his, sucking the smoke. He bit Hannibal’s plush lower lip, pulling backwards until it stretched then let it go, sliding his hands underneath the suit jacket to feel the silk of the shirt underneath. He pushed the jacket off and Hannibal removed it, hastily draping it over the back of the couch.

Will felt languorous and luxurious. He took another puff, watching as the light from the fire played across Hannibal’s face, and was blocked by Will’s body. As Will smoked, he studied the planes of Hannibal’s face, unashamedly staring. He felt hyperfocused on the austere cheekbones, the proud brow, the curve of his lips, the strength of his jaw. Hannibal, too, seemed transfixed by him, hands sliding up Will’s thighs. Everything seemed to be highlighted in vivid technicolour, and he ground down onto Hannibal, rubbing his slowly thickening erection against him.

After a few more drags, he gave the joint to Hannibal. He then leaned back and took his white undershirt off, yanking it off and over his head and depositing it onto the floor, the tug of the cotton over his skin far too much in the moment. Hannibal’s eyes were greedy at the sight of his skin, and he took a shaky drag himself. Will smoothed his hands across Hannibal's shirt, pulling himself as close as can be, hips pistoning onto Hannibal’s now very evident erection. Time seemed to pass in a blur, as the pleasant friction made him ache.

“How’s the shoulder?” asked Hannibal, as he pushed up, hips grinding with a dancer’s precision.

“What shoulder?” asked Will.

Hannibal laughed.

The blunt was almost finished. Will rocked down as Hannibal palmed his ass and held the joint up to his lips. He took a puff as Hannibal fondled him, heartbeat rising as Hannibal slid his hand down the back of his trousers and into his boxers.

“What is it with you and my ass?” asked Will, laughing a little.

There was a twinkle in Hannibal’s eyes.

“Whenever feasible, one should always try to eat the rude.”

“Oh, is that so?” gasped Will as Hannibal grabbed one cheek tightly and massaged it, using it as leverage to grind up into Will’s aching cock. “Have I been rude, Dr. Lecter?”

“Immensely.”

“Let me make it up to you,” said Will, sliding out of Hannibal’s grasp and down onto the carpet, pushing his legs apart.

There was a hungry glint in Hannibal’s eyes at the sight of Will down on his knees. He finished the joint and leaned forward to put it out on the marble mortar, then sat back with a groan as Will busied himself with his fly. Everything felt dreamlike, indulgent, connected. It took him a minute or two to unbutton Hannibal’s trousers, the simple task seeming a bit more complicated suddenly. He felt the blood rush through his veins, and his skin felt soft and warm as he finally managed to open Hannibal’s trousers, taking his cock out of his silk briefs. He looked up at Hannibal as he lowered his head, licking across the heavy, red tip.

Tracing his tongue over the edge of his foreskin, Will reached down to cup his balls, rolling them gently, just teasing. Hannibal put his hands in Will’s hair, on his face, just petting and stroking, reverent and soft, as he licked in broad strokes down the length of his cock. He nosed down to Hannibal’s trimmed pubic hair, and pressed soft kisses to the base, stroking lightly from root to tip with his hand.

“Will,” said Hannibal adoringly. 

“Hannibal,” he breathed, feeling light and free. 

He licked up the underside, massaging the vein with his tongue, then back over the top, letting saliva pool around the rigid flesh. Will licked his lips, biting the bottom one while looking up into Hannibal’s eyes. Then he took the head of Hannibal’s cock into his mouth, slowly and deliberately, letting his tongue suck and massage the sensitive skin there, groaning at the weight and texture. Hannibal grunted a little and tugged at his hair. Will hummed at the wordless encouragement and hollowed his cheeks, taking more of his length into his mouth. He sucked as he pulled back, working his hand over what wasn’t in his mouth. Using less finesse than usual, he let drool run down his mouth and along Hannibal’s cock, getting everything wet and sloppy.

He felt hazy, everything inside him was singing as he swirled his tongue delicately over the head of Hannibal’s cock, gently shifting the foreskin back to suckle on the tip. He had an errant thought that the shag carpet had been an excellent investment for the support he had on his knees alone. Pulling back he giggled, the thought extremely funny for some reason.

“What is it, Will?” asked Hannibal, laughing in return, everything heightened between them, the good humour spreading like a feedback loop as they floated high together.

“The carpet. You bought it because it’s a sex carpet, didn’t you?” he said, laughing openly now.

“A sex carpet?” asked Hannibal, smiling at the phrase. “What exactly is that?”

“A carpet you bought with the express purpose of having sex on,” said Will, blowjob momentarily forgotten.

“I won’t deny that its colour didn’t influence my choice,” said Hannibal. “I thought the burgundy would contrast nicely with your skin.”

“Pervert,” accused Will, filled with mirth, sliding his hands up Hannibal’s strong thighs. 

“You don’t seem to be complaining, beloved,” remarked Hannibal, thumbing Will’s reddened lips.

“I’m not, am I?” said Will, softly, glancing down at Hannibal’s hard and waiting cock.

Keeping his hands on Hannibal’s thighs and squeezing, he lowered his head and mouthed at Hannibal’s cock, then slid down almost the whole way in one practised movement, taking care to keep his teeth covered. Hannibal groaned as heat and silky softness encased him, Will bobbing his head and sucking as he pulled back, breathing harshly through his nose. After a few sloppy sucks, he paused to dip his tongue into the sensitive slit, rubbing back and forth as Hannibal’s hips jumped. He had expected the movement so moved his hands to hold Hannibal down a bit more firmly as he sucked back down, hollowing his cheeks and letting the head of his cock hit the back of his throat. He breathed harshly for a moment, allowing his throat to convulse a little before pulling back with a gasp. 

Hannibal was breathing harshly, brown eyes darkened to a black as his pupils dilated. Sweat trailed down Will’s back from the heat of the fire and beaded at the base of his hair. With one hand he stroked Hannibal’s hard cock, allowing the saliva and now leaking precum to slick the way, twisting upwards firmly as he took the head back in his mouth. Tired of teasing, he established a rhythm, now using both hands to pump in tandem with his bobbing head. Precum leaked into his mouth, and he let it and his own saliva fall everywhere, messy and uncaring. The slide in and out of him felt almost meditative. He drank in Hannibal’s moans and groans, the little whimpers as his tongue hit a particularly sensitive spot, feeling the familiar dark satisfaction grow inside him that he always felt at reducing Hannibal to something so base.

He pulled back, stroking Hannibal firmly as he breathed in harsh gasps. Drops of precum welled up like glistening pearls and instead of licking them off, he rubbed the head of Hannibal’s dick over his cheeks and mouth, smearing the liquid onto his skin. Hannibal bared his teeth at the sight, animalistic in the moment of Will’s submission, watching his own precum shine all over Will’s face in the firelight possessively. Will reached down to palm his own cock at the sight through his trousers, and sucked Hannibal’s cock back into his mouth.

He reached his hands to the swell of Hannibal’s stomach underneath his shirt, feeling the muscles jump there as Hannibal forced himself to stay in one position, letting Will do as he pleased, his self control ironclad. Will rewarded him with several harsh sucks, scratching at the skin of his abdomen with blunt fingernails, the rough pressure a perfect counterpoint to his mouth. He felt so confident, all the noise in his head had melted away into a quiet hum. He pet his way back down to Hannibal’s thighs, tugging his trousers down so he could get his hands onto skin. He pressed his fingers hard into the muscle there, hoping he could leave bruises that would mark Hannibal as his, a reminder of his own possession. The precum was cooling on his face, tacky and wet, but he didn’t care. All that mattered was him and Hannibal in this moment, joined in the most primal way, consumptive.

He hummed, letting the vibrations travel through the rigid flesh, his jaw aching now. But the ache was pleasant, even welcome. His own pleasure was secondary. Hannibal’s slight whimpers were more than enough to sustain him as he bobbed his head over and over again, tongue working Hannibal over, higher and higher, his eyes closed in concentration. Every sensation had intensified, the taste in his mouth sharper than before, the silky smoothness of Hannibal’s skin heavier and warmer, the smell of his body spiced. He felt _good_ , carefree and happy, down on his knees, as though in prayer, taking Hannibal deeper and deeper into his mouth like communion.

Hannibal had a firm grasp in his hair, just stroking. He could hear himself making lewd sounds, the slurp and sucking obscene. One hand came down to rub over his cheeks, feeling the shape of Hannibal’s cock from the outside. Fingers traced his stretched lips, rubbing the saliva all over his face, worshipful and awed. Hannibal looked utterly devoted. Will groaned at his facial expression, overcome, this time taking Hannibal by surprise as he deepthroated him with a fervour, letting his nose sink to the base of Hannibal’s cock. He gagged a little but stayed down, rolling Hannibal’s balls in one hand. Hannibal jerked upwards before trembling to a stop, restraining himself for Will’s sake as pleasure rang through him.

“I’m close, Will,” gasped out Hannibal.

Will moaned at the admission. He pulled back and deepthroated him again, determined to make him come, letting himself gag and drool, inhibitions lost. He knew the image he was making, wanton and debauched, and the thought of it sent heat down his spine. He went back to blowing Hannibal harshly, using both hands to fist his cock, trying to make the combination of friction and smooth suction as pleasurable as possible. Hannibal was panting now, his hips twitching up. Will let go of his cock with one hand, and reached to grasp Hannibal’s hip, pulling him into his mouth, encouraging him wordlessly to thrust.

With a groan, Hannibal tightened his grip on Will’s head and let go, thrusting into the wet heat of his mouth frantically. Will’s eyes watered as his oxygen was cut off, throat abused with the plunge of Hannibal’s cock in and out. 

“Will,” Hannibal moaned, jerking in once, then twice, and holding Will down as cum flooded his mouth in salty spurts. Almost on autopilot, he swallowed the liquid down as Hannibal twitched and groaned, aftershock racking his body. His hands grew lax and Will pulled back, sticking his tongue out, pumping Hannibal’s sticky cock, coaxing the last droplets of milky white fluid out. He looked into Hannibal’s face as he blinked hazily down at Will, shuddering at the sight of Will, redfaced and panting as the last remnants of Hannibal’s cum painted his face and mouth.

“Hannibal,” he said hoarsely, throat sore and aching, bringing his fingers up to his mouth, licking the cum off of them. He dragged his hand through the trails that had escaped his mouth and painted his cheeks, and lewdly popping it into his mouth, bolder than usual. 

Hannibal hauled Will up and into his lap again, hands feverish over Will’s body, groping his flesh, licking the pearly white liquid off of Will’s skin before tasting himself in Will’s mouth. Will ground his hips down against Hannibal’s abdomen, now aware of his cock straining in his boxers. He wanted relief so badly, and he was shameless in begging.

“Hannibal, please,” he groaned out, voice rasping and low, eyelashes fluttering.

All of a sudden, Hannibal stood up, supporting Will’s weight and manhandling him down onto the carpet. Frenzied, he stripped Will’s pants and boxers off in one go. He looked half crazed, half euphoric as he set to biting Will’s collarbones, digging his tongue into the hollow between them to taste the sweat that had pooled there. He tugged on Will’s nipples as he bucked upwards at the tingles of pleasure and pain. His hands seemed to be everywhere. In Will’s hair as he jerked his head back to bite a necklace of bruises into the sensitive skin of his throat. Dragging along his biceps as he bit at the join of neck and shoulder, worrying the skin with pointed, dangerous teeth. Petting and massaging the muscles of his ass as he nosed down Will’s chest and abdomen. 

“Next time we do that,” he murmured against Will’s stomach scar, “I’m coming all over this.”

Will moaned wantonly, the image flickering behind his eyes, the raised line of the smile covered in drops of cum, obscene and depraved, and so, so hot. 

“Take your clothes off,” he demanded. “I want to feel your skin against mine.”

Hannibal paid no attention, biting Will’s hipbones and scraping his teeth over them until the skin felt raw and red. Will’s hips thrusted into the air, seeking attention but Hannibal bypassed his groin entirely, shouldering his way between Will’s thighs, spreading them open. He sucked the sensitive skin there into his mouth, tongue and teeth claiming red and purple marks all over him in appreciation. Everything was sensitised; Will felt a moment away from coming, his cock now aching beyond belief.

"Off,” he moaned insistently, tugging at the fabric of Hannibal’s shirt.

Impatiently and without pulling his mouth away from Will’s skin, Hannibal started unbuttoning his shirt, switching sides to the opposite thigh. Will ground his fingers through Hannibal’s soft, straight hair, pushing it back so he could look down at his face buried between his legs. Hannibal shrugged the shirt off, chest bare and Will pushed his hands down over his broad shoulders and the sweaty skin of his back. 

Will moaned in appreciation at the sight, his hips twitching up.

“Pants too,” he commanded, wanting Hannibal to join him in being totally bare.

Hannibal growled irritably and shucked his pants and briefs off, clearly not wanting any more interruptions. Will hummed in approval and scratched the base of Hannibal’s neck in reward. Hannibal gave him an admonishing bite at his pushiness and Will yelped.

“Please, Hannibal,” he moaned. 

“Please what, Will?” asked Hannibal, licking his way up to Will’s cock, sucking a bruise into the tender join where thigh met groin.

Will almost sobbed at the question.

“Please make me come,” he cried out, overwrought and overwhelmed.

“Not good enough,” tutted Hannibal, biting another bruise on the opposite side. Will could imagine his cock now, hard and straining, anointed with Hannibal’s love and teeth. He whimpered a little.

“Please suck my cock,” he gasped out, looking down at Hannibal, trying to make eye contact with him to show how badly he needed to come.

Hannibal looked up at him with a victorious, wicked smile and engulfed him in one fell swoop.

Will pounded his fist against the carpet as hot, wet pleasure rushed through him and his neglected cock was taken into Hannibal’s mouth.

“Oh!” he cried out, back arching, liquid pleasure spreading through his limbs.

God, that dangerous mouth. Capable of ripping people’s throats out, feasting on human flesh, manipulating anyone into doing anything. And here it was, existing to do nothing but give Will pleasure. Hannibal pulled his legs over his shoulders, laying one arm against Will’s stomach, pinning him against the ground. The thick shag of the carpet was luxurious against the skin of Will’s back, a soft contrast to the hard lines of Hannibal’s body, and the demanding sucks he was giving Will’s turgid flesh. Will was so close to the edge he felt his legs begin to shake. 

“Oh god,” he groaned. “Gonna come.”

“No,” growled Hannibal, eyes flashing.

He reached down to the base of Will’s cock and grasped it firmly, staving off Will’s orgasm. Will moaned piteously at the denial, whimpering as Hannibal licked his slit in apology. 

“Just a little longer, my love,” he said. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Will felt tears prick his eyes, his vision blurring slightly. Hannibal sucked his cock with efficiency, knowing exactly how to drive Will out of his mind, tongue teasing all the sensitive spots. He let go of his cock to stick two fingers into his mouth, wetting thoroughly with his saliva. He ducked back down to suck Will’s dick, head bobbing up and down as he reached down and teased his wet fingers against Will’s perineum. Will moaned and his hips shuddered at the dual sensation.

He felt as though he was floating out of his own body, his world narrowed down to the feeling of his cock in Hannibal’s mouth, yet simultaneously expanding so he could hear the roar of the flame, the call of the birds outside. Hannibal set an almost indulgent rhythm of long, languorous sucks from root to tip, savouring Will’s taste. Every now and then he drew back to suckle on the head of Will’s cock, dragging precum out of Will and onto his tongue. As Will felt himself leaking steadily, Hannibal moaned at the taste, humming in appreciation as Will blushed. 

Hannibal redoubled his efforts, voracious and consuming, sucking Will’s cock like he was made to do this and little else. He flashed his eyes up to Will who was staring down at him, shocked and gasping. Smiling slightly with his lips around Will’s dick, he sank down until his nose was against the skin of Will’s groin and breathed deeply, smelling his arousal. Will thrusted up but was prevented by the arm around his stomach and cried out loud, the feeling incredible as Hannibal’s throat worked around the head of his cock, working in small but deliberate swallows.

Will’s head thrashed from side to side as he whimpered at the sensation. Hannibal eased back, breathing heavily but Will had one moment of respite before he sank back down, deepthroating him once more. Again and again, he repeated the motion, taking Will deep into his throat, letting saliva pool into Will’s groin and using his tongue to massage the vein on the underside. Hannibal’s eyes were glassy but he was moaning and panting around Will’s cock like he was having the time of his life. 

Will could barely breathe with the pleasure, his breaths coming fast and fluttering. He felt like he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs.

“Please,” he whimpered, looking up at the ceiling and seeing colours he had never seen before. “Please let me come.”

Hannibal hummed in consideration, and Will almost wept as he drew back and dipped his tongue around his fraenulum. 

“Come, Will,” he said, voice just as hoarse as Will’s.

Will groaned at the wrecked sound, the knowledge that Hannibal sounded like that because of him going straight to his dick. Hannibal went back to sucking his cock, bobbing his head in a fast rhythm now, letting his hand pump whatever length he couldn’t get into his mouth. He began to rub Will’s perineum with an unyielding pressure. Will felt the pleasure in him mount as his prostate was stimulated from the outside.

As Hannibal sank his mouth down Will one last time, taking him in deep, he let just a hint of teeth touch the base of Will’s cock. It was this slight affectation of danger that made him come.

“Oh fuck!” he cried out, jerking as he spilled into Hannibal’s mouth. 

Hannibal let out a hungered noise as he pulled back and swallowed, suckling at Will’s head, and wringing every last drop from him. Will felt his orgasm expand, molten and heated from his cock all the way down to his curling toes and the top of his skull. He moaned and gasped as he felt the sex and the weed combine into a haze, each sensation building on top of one another, heightened and kaleidoscopic. Hannibal worked him through his climax until Will whined and pushed him away, overstimulated, body still punctuated with aftershocks.

Hannibal crawled up Will’s body and kissed him, tongue plunging into Will’s lax mouth. The taste of Will’s cum still coated Hannibal, heavy and salty and Will moaned, stretching his body against Hannibal’s like a cat. The sensation of Hannibal’s skin against his, his weight pinning Will down onto the carpet made his eyes roll back. Far from feeling smothered, he felt tethered to the earth, convinced he might just float away without Hannibal anchoring him. 

As Hannibal pulled back, Will bit his jaw the way he had wanted to earlier, leaving a tiny red mark. Hannibal hissed and pulled Will’s head back with a fist in his hair. 

“Haven’t had enough yet, Will?” he asked, panting.

“I’ll never have enough of you,” replied Will, Adam’s apple working as he swallowed, mouth unaccountably dry all of a sudden.

Hannibal followed the movement with his eyes and he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the skin of Will’s throat. He then let go of Will’s head and pressed another gentle kiss, close mouthed and sweet as candy, to his lips.

“Nor I, of you, Will,” he confessed.

Will smiled up at him, heartbeat thudding wildly. 

They lay there for what could have been a minute or twenty, letting their bodies come down from the twin highs of orgasm and narcotics.

“I could really eat, couldn’t you?” Will asked all of a sudden, filled with a different sort of hunger, ravenous.

“There’s leftover beef and beet borscht in the fridge,” he said, rolling off of Will and stretching out on the carpet.

“Okay, I don’t know about you, Hannibal, but usually people eat normal food like Cheetos or Pop Tarts when they get the munchies. Not fancy Eastern European soup.”

Hannibal looked scandalised.

“Firstly, Will, I must tell you that borscht is a very common Lithuanian dish that I have eaten on all sorts of occasions. And secondly, you must know that we have no such...food...in the house,” he said, wrinkling his nose at the idea of referring to Cheetos or Pop Tarts as food.

Rolling his eyes, Will got up off the carpet, snagging Hannibal’s shirt and slipping into it, heading off to the kitchen. In a moment, he heard Hannibal get up too, and follow him down the stairs. As Will rummaged in the fridge for the borscht, as well as some of the rosemary bread he had baked the other day, Hannibal stepped up behind him and palmed his ass.

“I like you in my clothes,” he said, dragging Will back to his chest.

“Down tiger,” said Will, pulling away. “We’re both too old for a round two this soon, and I am so hungry I could eat a horse.”

Chuckling, Hannibal acquiesced and let him go, choosing instead to remove two soup bowls and turn on the toaster. They ate at the counter, cold borscht with toasted slices of bread covered in artisanal butter. It was pretentious but it was the best tasting post-high snack Will had ever eaten. As he mopped up the remainder of the soup with his bread, Hannibal smirked smugly at him.

“Did I not tell you the borscht would be a suitable option?” he asked.

Will rolled his eyes.

“You and your need to always be right,” he said.

Hannibal laughed, delighted as ever at Will knowing him so completely.

“Who was in the borscht again?” he asked. “The electrician?”

“The electrician is being saved for a rainy day. This was the school teacher.”

“Of course,” said Will. “Delicious, just like it was yesterday.”

“Thank you, Will,” said Hannibal, pleased at the praise.

Will yawned, his eyes heavy with sleep after the two meals, wine, and weed. He pushed his bowl away and stretched his arms above his head, his shoulder feeling much better.

“Bed, I think,” said Hannibal, gathering the cutlery and taking it to the sink.

“Come with me,” said Will, grasping Hannibal’s hand in his own. “We’ll clean up tomorrow.”

Hannibal looked torn, glancing between the dirty sink and Will’s pleading eyes. 

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Will said, slow and teasing, brushing his body against Hannibal’s gloriously naked one.

Hannibal laughed.

“You’re going to fall asleep in fifteen minutes,” he said fondly, tucking a curl behind Will’s ear.

“Maybe so,” agreed Will, “but it will be by your side.”

Hannibal leaned down and kissed him, threading their fingers together.

“Lead the way,” he said, following Will to the bedroom, and wherever else he deemed to take him from now until forever.

**Author's Note:**

> Is it possible for me to write a fic without 2100 words of back story and characterisation first? No. But here, take my brain rot, I hope you all like it.
> 
> Title is from Novacane by Frank Ocean. 
> 
> The prompt was smoking weed together + shotgunning + sloppy blowjobs in front of the fire.
> 
> Yes, all the information Hannibal gives about references to drugs in literature are 100% true. The research into this fic was so illuminating lmao.
> 
> [This](https://www.zippo.com/products/slim-brass-venetian) is Hannibal's fancy ass lighter.
> 
> Please leave a comment if you liked what you read! More to come!
> 
> Come follow me on tumblr @snailmailthings [here](http://www.snailmailthings.tumblr.com)!


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